Blood on the Cowley Road (DI Susan Holden 1)

‘Wow! You are a stickler for detail. I put the grey tracksuit in a charity bag in Reading, where – as you know – I live. And I took Sarah’s clothes to the recycling centre at the bottom of the Abingdon Road. All right?’

Holden struggled with a sudden and barely controllable urge to hit Anne Johnson. She wanted to slap the lying, conceited cow so hard she richocheted off the far wall. She wanted to grab her and shake her until she could shake her no more. She wanted, above all, to drag a confession out of her arrogant, pouting mouth. She wanted justice and closure for Sarah and for herself, but she knew now she never would.

‘Where were you on the Wednesday before Sarah’s death?’ It was a last throw. ‘And please don’t tell me you can’t remember, because I won’t bloody well believe you.’

‘Inspector!’ she exclaimed in a voice of mock horror. ‘I would never allow language like that in my classes. But just to put your mind at rest, I do remember that I was at home. I dare say I was glued to Crimewatch from nine o’clock to ten. I like to think that if I watch it regularly, then one day I’ll recognize someone in a CCTV shot, and then I’ll be able to help the police solve a crime. Now, wouldn’t that be good.’

‘Can you prove you were there?’ Holden snapped back despairingly.

Again the conceited smile dominated Anne Johnson’s face. ‘Can you prove that I wasn’t?’

Holden made no reply. For several seconds she sat and looked at her adversary in silence. Finally, she stood abruptly up. ‘You are free to go home,’ she said curtly, and then, without waiting, she stalked out of the room.